


Lemon Pie

by LibbyWrites



Series: Tumblr Drabbles [3]
Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Dessert & Sweets, Drabble, Flirting, M/M, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-10-01 11:24:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10188878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibbyWrites/pseuds/LibbyWrites
Summary: Zayn's desserts keep getting stolen from the office's fridge.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I decided to upload all my Tumblr drabbles on AO3 to have them all together in one place.
> 
> This is Drabble #03, an anonymous request. The prompt was "I wish I could hate you." 
> 
> [Here](http://elerinwen.tumblr.com/post/149557783010/hmmmm-36-i-wish-i-could-hate-you-choose) is the original Tumblr post in case you want to check it out and [here](http://elerinwen.tumblr.com/ask) is my ask box in case you want to request something. (My prompt lists are over [here](http://elerinwen.tumblr.com/tagged/prompts)).
> 
> Thanks for reading and please leave comments or kudos if you liked it!

Zayn was exhausted. Truly, overwhelmingly exhausted. Yeah, okay, being an architect and a designer was his dream; he had an amazing job at a very well-known studio and he spent his days drawing buildings that ended up being actual, real things. Buildings he could look at and show to his family and to every person that ever said he was never really going to amount to much, that his drawings were just a silly pastime that he had to grow out of.

His problem was that he hated deadlines with a passion. He was the kind of person that loved drawing when it was for fun, but when it was for work, procrastination always got the best of him. He kept putting off work, wasting precious hours doodling imaginary cities, watching funny cat videos in his office computer or ogling the new hot intern from afar. This of course ended up with him scrambling to find time when the deadline was almost upon him. He hated his own procrastinating ass. So bad.

This was one of those weeks when a deadline was looming on the horizon and his life was utter hell. He had blueprints for a new museum to deliver by Friday and it was Thursday and they were far from done. He was going absolutely crazy, so crazy he ended up accidentally spilling ink all over the design for the building’s rooftop garden.

That’s when he decided he needed a break. He had been drawing nonstop since the ass crack of dawn, and now it was nearing midday and he was in the worst mood possible, he had a terrible headache and his stomach was crying for attention. He left the puddle of ink where it was, resigned. He would deal with cleaning that up later. He left his office, straight towards the kitchen.

The company wasn’t that big, but it made enough money to afford a huge office with plenty extra space. The kitchen was beautiful, fully equipped, stainless steel appliances and all. His boss was quite of a kitchen nerd, he had designed the thing himself. It was right by the dining room, a big open space with round tables and chairs that sat all fifty employees comfortably. It even had two walls made completely out of glass, looking over the city. It was probably Zayn’s favorite place in the entire building. It looked like his high school lunch hall, only with a better view and a hundred times fancier.

Zayn sighed on his way to the kitchen, rolling his shoulders to ease the inevitable tension that built up on his back after an entire morning hunched down over his drawing board. He took a second to yawn before opening the fridge. He was pretty sure he was going to die of lack of sleep someday. He opened the fridge and stuck his head inside, looking for his lunch and his treat. He should probably be embarrassed that his mum refused to treat him like a grown ass adult and still went to his place once a week to cook huge batches of food he could freeze and then eat at work. He was kind of embarrassed, yeah, but he was pretty sure he would die of starvation if he were left to fend for himself. He rummaged through other people’s food and he finally found what he was looking for. A container with lasagna and a little brown bag with… Where was his lemon pie? Where. The fuck. Was his lemon pie.

He pulled the lasagna out of the fridge and practically threw it on the counter to make room in the frige to search. He had brought both things that same morning. His mum’s fantastic meat lasagna and a slice of her glorious lemon pie. And now the pie was gone. It was not there. And he was pissed. Royally pissed. “What the fuck…” he muttered, closing the fridge so hard the thing rattled.

His mood was now nearing catastrophic, if anyone paid close attention they would probably see smoke coming out of his ears. He threw the lasagna on a plate and practically shoved it inside the microwave, hitting the buttons with fury. “Can I ask what got stolen now, or will that put my life at risk?” Harry was standing behind him with an apple in his hand, looking at him with the fear of god in his eyes, keeping his (very smart) distance.

Zayn rolled his eyes and propped his hip on the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “My fucking lemon pie,” he spat. “I’ve been dreaming of eating it since my mom showed up with it last night, and now my slice is gone. It was my treat. You know how I get without my treat,” he explained, knowing it wasn’t really necessary. Harry witnessed it happen many times since they met each other two years ago. Or well, it was mostly a new thing. It only happened once in the past, when Zayn had brought a chocolate muffin and Sarah from accounting thought it was old and threw it in the garbage. Zayn was sure poor Sarah was still terrified of him because of how he reacted that time. He knew he should probably apologize, but it was better that way. At least no one stole his food again. Somehow, in the past two months, it happened again. And again. It started happening on a weekly basis. First it was an apple crumble, then it was chocolate chip cookies, it just didn’t stop. His dessert went missing so often it was a miracle Zayn hadn’t burned the whole company down. His dessert was his one precious thing, the best moment of every day. And someone had the fucking nerve to ruin that.

“I’m still trying to figure out who the thief is, Z. We’re gonna find them, you’ll see…” Harry tried to reassure him with a tentative smile on his face.

Zayn just rolled his eyes and took his lasagna out of the microwave as soon as it beeped. “D’you think I’ll still get to work here after I commit murder?” He asked, grabbing a fork and a knife from the utensil drawer.

“Probably. You’re too good to be fired. Unless the thief is Mr. Rogers. Then you’re fucked,” Harry laughed.

“Not funny,” Zayn deadpanned, walking towards his favorite table, knowing Harry would follow. If he dragged a chair to sit on, making more noise that he should, no one could blame him.

He finally sat down, facing the window like he always did. It relaxed him and he sure as hell needed relaxation as soon as possible. He started eating even before Harry took a seat across from him.

They ate in silence, probably because Harry knew there was no point in talking when Zayn was in one of his moods. Maybe he should’ve kept his mouth shut, because the next thing he said made Zayn want to throw a chair out the window. “Um… I think I see someone eating your pie…” Harry said, slowly and in a low, careful tone.

Zayn stood up so fast the chair scraped against the floor again, making everyone in the room turn to look at him, including the filthy thief. There he was, fork stopped midair, looking at Zayn like a deer caught in headlights. The new intern. Payne. Liam. The hot, intern guy that Zayn couldn’t keep his eyes off of, was sitting two tables away from them, mouth open in surprise, a bit of meringue from the pie staining his bottom lip, looking at Zayn with his big brown doe eyes like he was the most innocent thing in the world. Fuck.

Zayn was never going to be able to explain what happened to him in that moment. He spent countless hours seething, imagining the vilest form of torture he could subject the thief to, he spent so much time ranting to Harry, he lost count of the times he wished he could find the dirty rat and make him pay, and now… Now he was standing in front of the culprit, and all he could think about was licking the meringue off his plump bottom lip.

The guy must have noticed he was the sole focus of Zayn’s fiery attention, because he dropped the fork, looking as guilty and as puppy-like as a human being can look. Zayn was so pissed off. He needed to despise this guy, the logical reaction was wanting to kill him. Not this. “Zayn…” Harry called him, tugging on his sleeve, but Zayn shook his hand out of Harry’s grasp, making him flinch.

“Not now, Harry,” he spat, and walked towards the thief, ignoring Harry’s plea not to kill the poor guy. Payne seemed to shrink in his place, as ridiculous as that sounded. He was really not a small guy. He had a broad set of shoulders and a wide beautiful back Zayn spent many nights dreaming about. He had the worst luck in the world. The thief was a wet dream come true and the subject of Zayn’s fantasies since the day he showed up at the company.

“Why the fuck did you steal my pie?” he asked, faking a polite tone, planting both hands on the table, looking at Liam straight in the eyes, which was a bad idea. They were the richest shade of brown and even prettier up close. Fuck.

“I… Um… I’m sorry? I didn’t know it was yours,” Liam explained. And of course his voice had to be to die for too, right? Deep, rich, just lovely. Zayn bit his lips hard, hoping the pain would keep the need of hearing that voice whispering dirty things in his ear away.

“It definitely wasn’t yours, was it? Just like all the other things you stole?” he asked, trying to infuse as much hatred in his voice as he could to mask the fact that he was pretty much shaking and two seconds from melting.

The intern blushed furiously, finally looking down, ashamed, or maybe looking for an excuse. Zayn stood there in silence, looking at him, waiting for an answer, trying not to kneel in front of the filthy thief to kiss the hell out of those blushing cheeks. Liam finally looked up, pushing the plate with the lemon pie over the table towards Zayn. “I’m so so sorry, I just… These desserts I keep finding without a label, they… they remind me of my mum’s cooking, I just miss her so much, and… they taste so good, and my boss told me everyone labels their food, so I thought…”

“You thought what? That it belonged to no one? No one put it in the fridge? No one planned on eating it?” Zayn snorted, trying his best to look angry instead of endeared by this ridiculous guy’s sweetness. “Even if it doesn’t have my name on it, it’s not yours, is it?” He asked, raising his eyebrows pointedly.

“You’re right, I’m sorry, I…” The guy was the embodiment of an apology, shoulders hunched, eyes on the ground, hands clasped together on top of the table. “Please don’t hate me?” he asked, and Zayn had to roll his eyes, biting his tongue to keep himself from smiling.

“I wish I could hate you…” he sighed defeated, rolling his eyes and finally dropping his ass on the free chair across the thief, grabbing the fork and shoving a forkful of delicious, tainted pie into his mouth.

“What?” Liam asked, and Zayn looked back up at him, furrowing his brows in question. “What does that mean, you wish you could hate me? You don’t even know me, you can absolutely hate me if you want,” Liam explained, a curious look in his eye, like he was trying to figure out why Zayn wasn’t stabbing him in the eye with his fork.

Zayn laughed, shaking his head. “I don’t, okay? I just… Please don’t steal my treats again,” he pleaded, not giving a fuck about sounding like a sensitive idiot about dessert.

He kept eating, in silence, thinking the guy would just apologize again and thank him for not murdering him and most likely leave him alone eventually. He didn’t. He broke the silence a few minutes later, an amused tone in his voice. “What about I do you one better and I take you out to dinner?” Zayn pretty much choked on the piece of lemon pie he was eating, dropping the fork so unceremoniously it clattered on the table, making him flinch.

“I’m sorry, what?” Zayn asked, looking at the stranger again, baffled. Did he just… Did the hottest man in this godforsaken company just ask him out?

“Dinner. How about I buy you dinner to make up for the stolen food?” Liam asked, smiling at him like it was nothing, like he wasn’t pretty much killing Zayn with that proposal.

It took Zayn two second to make up his mind, all remaining anger washed away by warm coffee eyes and pink smiles. “You mean, like, a date?” he had to ask anyways, even if he had already made up his mind about it. No matter what Liam said he was not going to miss this opportunity. Unless Liam was joking.

Which he wasn’t, apparently. “Yeah, why not?” he replied, sweet smile fading into a devilish smirk.

Zayn rolled his eyes and slipped his flirting face on, eyes blinking slower, easy smile, bottom lip between his teeth. Game on. “I’m gonna need homemade food then, y’know, Mr. Thief? The treats you stole were no store bought shit,” he joked, thinking maybe he was taking it too far but not finding it in himself to give a damn.

He never thought the guy would actually laugh an endearingly deep laugh. He never thought the guy would lean over the table, dip his finger in the meringue and take it to his mouth, sucking on it before whispering “It’s a deal, then. I’m one hell of a cook.”


End file.
